


A Millennium of All and More

by mamandisla



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Loves Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26388736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamandisla/pseuds/mamandisla
Summary: In 1100, two warriors face off at the Battle of Melitene and kill each other and a shocking discovery brings these enemies closer as their hate and prejudice dissolve as they realize they’re more alike than they thought possible, in more ways than one
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, yusuf - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	A Millennium of All and More

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up til 2 AM watching The Old Guard and immediately had to write this origin story for my fave lovers.

1 July 1097 was the day Nicolo di Genova was sure he would die. But he did not die that day. That day would come three years later and would shock him greatly.

On the first of July, Nicolo stood on a hill outside Dorylaeum. They had made camp there and were suddenly and viciously surrounded by the Turks, who charged through their camp and cut down every man they could. It didn’t matter if they were armed or even if they were a soldier, they were relentless. Bohemod’s Crusader army had been taken by surprise.

Nicolo fought on that hill for hours that day and watched countless men fall, and every second that passed, he was sure would be his last. But it wasn’t.

And by some miracle of God, because God was surely with them for it was He that they fought for, the army of Raymond of Toulouse appeared and the Turks were defeated.

And now, three years later, Nicolo was standing on another hill, under the same brutal sun and wearing the same mail coat and helmet, clutching the same sword in his hand as he readied himself to fight.

They were deep in Anatolia now, in a place called Malatya, and the men that fought them were ferocious warriors with great, curved blades that glinted in the sun. They fought as though they did not fear death and they shouted the name of their God as their battle-cry. What Nicolo didn’t yet understand is that these men and their God, they were not so different from him, nor his God.

The last three years had hardened him, had strengthened him. And it was true that he did not fear death any more than the men he faced on this hill. But he would take many of them with him before he went.

He cut them down by the dozens, moving with agile dexterity that was surprising for a man wielding an iron greatsword. And yet Nicolo di Genova was a man like no other.

His face was smeared with sweat and blood and his hair was plastered to his neck and forehead beneath his helmet. Though, in retrospect, it was foolish to do so, he wrenched the helmet from his head and tossed it away in fury. He suddenly came face to face with the enemy.

The man could almost be called beautiful, Nicolo had thought, if he were not an enemy of God. He had dark hair that curled in tight coils and fell around his face and shoulders. His beard, too, was dark, and thick and full and shined in the sun’s rays. He had dark eyes that gleamed bright with fearlessness and he snarled, curling his lip over his teeth as he positioned himself to strike.

Nicolo smiled menacingly and shouted something in Arabic that he’d picked up in his time fighting with Ricardo di Salerno and his cousins. The man cocked his head to the side at this, a smirk crossing his lips. He replied in his native tongue, seemingly impressed in a way that surprised Nicolo.

_“Are you ready to die?”_

_“If you are ready, then I am ready.”_

Though they teased one another, they made no jest. They meant to kill each other right there.

The dark-haired man struck first, his blade met by Nicolo’s in a brilliant clang that rang out over the shouts of the other men. But they were locked in battle, eyes trained only on each other, noticing no one else, hearing nothing else.

Nicolo turned swiftly, swinging his sword in an arc over the man’s arm, bringing it down to his shoulder. He cried out in a furious howl of pain and staggered back, but he did not fall. He brought a hand to the wound that was pouring blood and he tasted iron and salt in his mouth. He spat on the ground and lifted his chin defiantly at Nicolo.

_“Your God mocks you.”_

_“I am not dead yet. Come and take me!”_

The man gathered all the strength he had left and charged at Nicolo, catching him around the waist and bringing him to the ground on his back. With a great surge of adrenaline, he drove his blade deep into Nicolo’s belly and leaned over him, watching as his sparkling eyes faded and he let out his final breath.

Yusuf Al-Kaysani could die now. His final opponent had been dispatched. He slumped over the dead man’s body, letting his head rest against the stilled chest of the man. And then he moved no more.

Until he did. It was startling. Though he had never died before, the sensation of death was unmistakable and Yusuf was sure he’d been dying only minutes before. He was sure he’d closed his eyes for the last time and felt a brief wave of calm pass over before he felt nothing at all. Yet, he was here. He was awake and he was alive, the throbbing pain in his shoulder was proof of that.

He heard a groan and quickly realized, to his utter shock, the man beneath him was stirring. The man who had Yusuf’s sword sticking out of him still, whose blood pooled the ground beneath him. _What was happening?_

Nicolo was having a similar experience. He was dead. But this was not Heaven. The dark-haired man was, somehow, still alive, and glaring down at him in angry confusion. And there was a blade buried deep within him. But he was not dead, at least not yet. Although he didn’t feel like he was dying any longer.

Yusuf scrambled to his knees and yanked his sword from the man’s body. He stood and panted, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening. The man rolled over and climbed to his feet as well. They’d only just killed each other, or thought they had, and now they stood face to face again?

_“This time… this time, you will die.”_

Nicolo did not respond. He was still trying to comprehend what he was experiencing. But the man would try to kill him again, and Nicolo very much wanted to be the one to kill _him_.

Yusuf lunged at him, his sword slicing into his chest. Stunned, Nicolo pulled a dagger from his belt and with all the force he could muster, slashed it across Yusuf’s neck. They stood so closely at the end that they caught each other as they fell. And there they died together, a Muslim and a Christian. Lives snuffed out by religious tyranny.

Except that they weren’t.

Again, they groaned, they stirred, they rose in shock and surprise. This time, though, they knew that something was different. They knew those had been killing blows. And neither bore the wounds, no scars, no marks. Their skin was unmarred by the sharp edge of iron.

They repeated their little dance and again they died. And then they woke. It went on like that for quite awhile and at a certain point, it became less about killing one another and more about seeing if they could actually do it. And eventually, they began to accept that they could not. Faced with this impossibility and the eerie sense of togetherness that had developed through the intimate act of killing the other and dying together several times, they finally sheathed their swords and called a truce.

They did not know what became of the other men. No one had seemed to notice when the two rose and fought and rose and fought again. The battle must have ended at some point while they were in their bizarre state of lifelessness and their bodies were left without ceremony by those they’d pledged to fight and die beside. They did not know who was the victor and they found that they no longer cared.

They didn’t say much as there was little to be said. They walked away from that field together. They wandered together. They eventually found a safe enough place under cover of darkness and sparse woods and they made camp together.

They stared into the fire for awhile and finally, Yusuf spoke first.

_“You are different. From those men, the Christian men. You act different.”_

_“Certainly different that I am not dead when I should be. “_

_“That is not what I mean. All those times that you killed me, that I killed you… it was not cruel. It was not hate. I saw your eyes. Your face. I felt the way you cradled my head the last time, when I went before you.”_

Nicolo was silent. It was true, the bizarre circumstance they found themselves in had created a strange attraction to this man. No one knew his secret, the desires and temptation that plagued his mind. How he felt for men, the way the world said he should feel only for women. But he felt that now, for this man. And it was different, still. More than attraction, he was _drawn_ to him in a way he could not explain. 

_“What are you called?”_

_“Yusuf Al-Kaysani_

_“Nicolo di Genova”_

_“Nicolo, do you understand what this means? We cannot go back. We cannot return to our armies, our homes, our families.”_

_“I have no family to return to.”_

Yusuf straightened and looked at Nicolo’s face. Their eyes met and the strange feeling returned in force.

_“Nor I.”_

_“Fate has turned enemies to friends, it seems.”_

_“Why do you fight in this war, Nicolo?”_

_“Why do you? Why does any man?”_

_“A fair question. Is it your God?”_

_“Is it yours? Or is this all for the greed and the power of other men?”_

_“The world is a dark place and I have no answers for you. But it would seem you are right.”_

_“Yusuf… I have to believe that this, whatever this is, is a miracle from God. And to believe that, I must also believe it is from your God. Perhaps… they are one in the same.”_

_“Whatever the reason, the cause… we must face this together. There is no one else.”_

Yusuf felt conflicted by his emotions. He was pulled toward this Christian man from a faraway place. Despite that he had killed him, and vice versa, many times over, he believed he was a good man. Maybe even the _best_ of men. Because when he looked at him, he saw something reflected in his eyes. A familiar pain, the same torment that Yusuf had felt most of his life.

Their faiths said that what they felt was unnatural and wrong. And yet they had returned from death, over and over again. Was that not _unnatural_? But maybe it wasn’t wrong. There must be a purpose. Without thinking, for fear he might change his mind, Yusuf reached his hand out and took Nicolo’s.

Nicolo looked alarmed for a moment and glanced around him, fear that someone might be near overwhelmed him. But he did not pull back his hand.

_“There is no one else here, Nicolo.”_

_“No, there is not.”_

Nicolo chose to have courage and to ignore everything he had ever been taught. He chose to listen, instead, to what his heart taught him was right. He closed the gap between himself and Yusuf and looked into his bright eyes for a moment before Yusuf brought his lips softly to meet Nicolo’s.

It was the only kiss either of them had ever had, and it was the only one that mattered. It was an earth-shattering realization and acceptance of the fact that the world they knew before was gone and this _new_ world was one of their own making, one where they only had each other and everything else ceased to be of importance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is based entirely on my knowledge of the film and a brief summary of the first comic and a bit of light reading about The Crusades. Feel free to point out any mistakes or inaccuracies. Additionally, I welcome any feedback regarding the portrayal of Muslim vs Christian sentiments as well as the portrayal of two gay, religious men in the 12th century. I hope I did it justice and I certainly had no intention of being offensive so I am more than willing to correct any mistakes in that regard.


End file.
